The rest of the life of the Boy who Lived
by Seren McGowan
Summary: Harry Potter never knew how to move on. 20 years later, he still doesn't. An old man listens, as Harry Potter tries to understand himself.
1. Day One

**Authoress Note:**_ Whether it was reading the book or watching he movie, there was just one thing I couldn't get off my mind. Don't get me wrong. I'm team voldeort all the way, but...What is Harry going to do now? There is a reason why all tragic heroes die at the end of their story. After all, what is left for them to do, once all they know how to do is not needed anymore? I don't know if there are people who think like me, but I would really like to know what you guys think! Excuse the grammar, english is not my first lenguage and I don't have a beta for this yet x3_

**Dissclaimer:** _I own nothing!_

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><p><strong>Day one<strong>

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><p><em>It's a dark place.<em>

_He's never been in a darkest place._

_There is no darker place than this._

"I knew you'd come, eventually."

Harry stares at the man sitting behind the desk across from him, and arches an eyebrow.

"You did?"

"Of course" the old man laughs "You are alive, after all. Most of the ones who are still alive have come, one time or another. Some still do."

Harry wants to leave. This was a mistake.

"You want to leave so soon? You haven't even told me why you came."

Legeremancy. Harry supresses an humourless laugh.

"I've been having dreams, lately" he speaks finally "And, when I wake up, I want to kill my wife."

It sounds horrible, now that he says it out loud.

"And why is that? What dreams will lead you to ever consider killing someone?"

"Just to...do it, I guess. To do something." he has never talked about his dreams before "I dream of Him. He comes to kill me every night, and every night he ends up dead, and I live. And there are voices that keep whispering: _what now? what now?_"

"It is normal to relive that moment. You killed the most feared wizard of all time, after all."

Harry snorts.

"Hardly an acomplishment. He basically killed himself."

The old man leans in, hands flat on the old wooden surface od the desk, and studies the man before him.

"I had been told you were a really nice man. You seem a little bitter to me."

"I used to be a really nice guy" Harry admits, shrugging "I was Harry Potter, after all. I had to be nice because everything about me was so horrible."

"And you're not Harry Potter anymore? What changed?"

Harry ponders for a moment. What hasn't changed?

"Everything" he answers finally "I should be dead and I am alive. I am the Boy who Lived" he falls silent for a moment, then smiles slightly "Maybe nothing has changed. Just like that time, I should have died and I lived."

"You really believe you should have died?"

"Yes" he doesn't know why he's so sure "I don't know how to live."

The old man stares at him and nods slightly. A quill on the table lifts itself up and begins to scribble something on a parchment. It's to far away for Harry to read it, but he doesn't think he want's to.

"When did this dreams started?"

Harry doesn't want to answer. He will probbably sound like a lunatic, but, he's already said enough to make this man confine him in the farthest room of , after all.

"You said, whatever I tell you won't be revealed to others, right?"

"Whatever you say in this room, stays in this room."

Harry doesn't trust him. He trusts no one, these days.

"It all begun a month ago" he begins, finally "A man was taken to the Ministry, claiming that Voldemort was alive and that we shall all fear his vengance."

"That story has been told before. What was different this time?"

Harry shudders.

"I was there. I saw his face. It was not the face of madness, it was the face of hope. Most people wouldn't know the difference, but I've seen my fair share of mad and hopefull, and, though sometimes the difference is almost nonexistant, sometimes it's inmense."

Harry notices that the small black eyes of the man shine with interest, and he can't help but relish in the feeling of...importance that it gives him. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be the center of attention.

"_The Dark Lord will be back_" Harry whispers "_The Dark Lord will be back, for everytime you try to kill him, only makes him stronger_."

Silence overcomes, and, after what seems like an eternity, Harry finds the courage to continue.

"I felt it, too. The hope. It was like something inside me that had been asleep, had suddenly been awaken. The thrill of the fight, the power everytime I cast a spell, the ache of my scar, the visions...suddenly, it all came back, and, in my head, it kept repeating: _what now? what now?" _he takes a shaky breath, and realizes that, though he knows he should stop talking, he simply can't "It's been twenty years. All of the people I love lost something in that wat. But me? The people I love survived. I married, I have a family, I've seen my kids march to Hogwarts in the same train I did, I have a job I love and a life I never though I'd have. What would you say I lost in the war?"

"I would't know. What did you lose in the war?"

_You're a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose everything._

"Nothing" He answers "I lost nothing."


	2. Day Two

**Authoress notes:** _Here I come again! I have a norm not to post more chapters if I don't get at least two reviews, but this story has me completely trapped, and I just need to get it off my sistem, so chapters will keep comming, reviews or not x3. Special thanks to **Inkfire** for the review, it's great to find someone who thinks like me! Because really, the only question for Harry could be what now?_

**Dissclaimer:** _I own nothing!_

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><p><strong>Day Two<strong>

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><p><em>What now? What now?<em>

This is the third time he comes and he still thinks that it's a bad idea, but he still comes, nonetheless, because, after all, he has nothing to lose.

"There are tree kinds of people" the old man says "The ones who want to move on, the ones who don't, and the ones who can't."

"Which one of them would you say I am?"

The man smiles slightly.

"You gave your children the names of the fallen. Why was that?"

"How do you know how I named my children?"

"I'm here to help you, . I'm supposed to know those things."

Harry sighs.

_A tribute. To honour their deaths._ He wants to say, but he knows it would be a lie, and, somehow, he thinks lying to this man would be missing the point of this meetings completely.

"Rememberance. That way I will always remember. And, whenever I call one of my children, I will remember the person I named them after. It's all about remembering, I think."

"Wouldn't wanting to forget be more logical? After all you went through, who would want to remember?"

"I want to remember every detail. Every moment, because I will never live it again." he ponders for a moment "I am one of those who can't move on, I guess."

The man shakes his head, and the white tendrils of hair balance side to side.

"You could forget, if you wanted to. But you don't. You said it yourself, you want to remember. Your friend, George Weasley, on the other hand, wouldn't be able to forget even if he tried.¨

Harry doesn't know why this man brings up George's name, so he remains silent.

"The bond of twins is one of the greatest bonds that exist. Twins share a soul, and, when one dies, the other suffers an unbearable pain, and is finally left with half a soul, and the emptiness that leaves can't be filled with anything else. I cannot talk about my other patients, but I wanted you to understand the difference. You could forget and move on, but will forever remember."

Harry feels bad for George. He really does. But he can't help but think that he lost half his soul, too, or a quarter, at least. Because, come on, he was a horrorcrux, for Merlin's sake! How can that not be relevant? He shared Voldemort's soul, and now that he's gone, something in him is gone too.

_That was the darkest place._

"I though I could move on" Harry admits finally, closing his eyes and shifting to a more confortable position on the couch "I though I wanted to. A calm life, a fear-free future...But it turns out I didn't. I just don't know how to live that life. I though I could learn, but I can't."

"You tried for twenty years, though, didn't you? What made you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying."

_I never stopped trying._ Harry wants to say, but he knows it would be a lie, too. To be honest with himself, the truth is that he never really begun trying. He though he did, he convinced himself that he did, but he didn't, he couldn't. He never tried at all.

"I don't know when I begun trying in the first place" he says finally "I think I didn't, you know? I just did what I was expected to do, as always" he falls silent for a moment, but the man says nothing, so he continues "When I faced Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest...I died."

"Escuse me?" the old man seems surprised by the sudden topic-changing revelation.

"At least I think I did. I don't know. The _avada kedavra_ hit me and suddenly I was not in the forest anymore. I was somewhere else, all white and clean and calm, and, you know? I wanted to stay there forever. The feeling of peace...I had never felt something like it before, and I have never felt it again."

"Why didn't you stay, then?" the man asks, calmness recovered.

"I...I couldn't. I had to go back and fight."

"You didn't have to. Others would have fought. Others would have killed him. He was destined to fall."

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, passing a hand through his black mane of hair.

"I know. But I was expected to kill him. Just like I was expected to move on once I did. Just like I was expected to be good and brave, and alive. Just like I was expected to know how to live once it was all over. But, you know what?" he knows he should shut up, this is getting out of hand and he should stop talking, but he's remained silent for too long, and it's eating him from the inside out "I didn't want to kill him. And I didn't want to be good and brave all the time. Why me? Why was it always me? I was only seventeen, for Merlin's sake! seventeen is far too young!"

The old man watches as Harry Potter's perfect facade falls apart before him and wonders how many people have been allowed to witness this side of The boy who lived. Not many, he guesses, probbably no one, aside from him.

This is getting more interesting by the moment.

"Some people compared me to him" continues Harry, more calmly "_You remind me of him_, some would say. And, how couldn't I? He was all I ever knew, it seemed like I had been born just to fight him. My bond with him was stronger than any other bond I had. How could I not remind people of him?"

"Do you think you are like him?"

Harry doesn't know what to answer. That question has been haunting him since the first time he confessed his fear to Sirius, so many years ago.

"I think I... I could have been like him, if things had been different. If I had let myself let go, I might have ended up being like him."

"You are not like him, . You never were, and you're not now."

"I was expected not to be like him, I was expected to be all he never was. But, do you think that all that people would have loved me the same, if I hadn't been Harry Potter? Do you think someone would have cared if I followed his path?"

"But you _are_ Harry Potter. And that made all the difference."

_Such a big difference._ Harry thinks bitterly. _Such a thin line._

"I'm not like him because I am Harry Potter, and only because of that, I have the love he never had. How does that make me any better?"

"You earned that love. He killed any love he had, and he did it willingly. You must not pity him for that."

"It's not pity" Harry whispers, thoughtfully "It's envy."

_And it grows and grows and grows, until the dark is all he can see._


	3. Day Three

_**Authoress Notes:** I'm sorry I took this long to update! I think the story might be comming to and end, but I might add some extra chapters from someone else's point of view, maybe Draco or George, or Narcissa, or all of them x3 Special thanks to **deathly fan**, **WeAreTomorrow** and **Inkfire**, I really love that you liked the whole paralel thing with George and Voldemort, and you tottaly understood where I was going with that last line!_

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><p><strong>Day Three<strong>

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><p><em>What now? what now?<em>

Harry's last words linger in the air and the room grows unbearably quiet. Nervous, he stands up abruptly and prepares to leave.

"I'm tired. I don't know what I'm talking about, I think it's time for me to leave."

The old man stares at him calmly.

"Not at all, Mr . Potter, I think you're just beginning to know what you're talking about."

Harry lets his eyes fall to his hands, that are gripping his coat, and, with a sigh, he hangs it on the back of his seat and sits back down.

"Why envy?" the old man asks, once the man in front of him is seated again "Hate would be a more logical feeling"

"Not really" Harry answers, with a shrug "I did hate him, don't get me wrong, but now that I'm older, I think I understand it a little bit more" he doesn't know if he should continue...oh, what the hell "He was alone. He had this huge dream he wouldn't sacrifice for anyone or anything. Have you ever had something like that? People just...want things, and when they can't get them, they just look for another thing to want, and forget about the first thing they wanted. Isn't that sad?"

"Some dreams shouldn't be pursued."

"Why not?" Harry whispers, frowning "His belief in his dream was so strong, that he managed to make thousands of people believe in it too. I wouldn't be able to do that even if I tried. I think it would be a waste for a dream that strong to die."

"Thousands of people believed in you, too, and for far better reasons."

"But it wasn't my dream. I never had a dream like that. People believed in me because they though I could save them, and they though I could save them because Voldemort thougth that too. Can't you see it? it all comes down to him, at the end. He was the one with the dream that changed everything."

"Is that why you envy him?" the man asks, softly "Because he had a dream?"

"I envy him because he lived the life chose to live. He cared about no one, so he had no one to worry about. He did what he wanted to do and never let anyone tell him that he wasn't good enough" he takes a deep breath and presses a hand to his forehead, he can feel the beginng of a headache "I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, I had too much people to worry about and too many things I should do, and too many enemies I should fight. I don't know how to live because I was never able to live the life I wanted."

The old man nods sligthly and murmurs something. Harry notices that the quill, that had been lying lifeless on top of the parchment begins to write again.

"And what life did you want to live, Mr .Potter?"

Harry is taken back by the question. He doesn't know. He never thought about that because doing what he wanted was never an option, not even now, twenty years later.

"I...don't know. I never had the chance to think about it."

"Ah, you don't know. But you could do it now, if you knew what you wanted to do. Could it be that dying...changed you?"

"No. It was not that. Ah!" Harry smiles slightly, remembering "He was going to kill me again. He asked one of his followers to see if I was dead, and I was not. I have never been more afraid in my life. I remember it perfectly, all the words. _You, tell me wether he is dead_. He said, and then, the mos beautiful woman leaned over me and asked:_ Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?_ She knew I was alive, but she didn't seem to care about that. _He is dead_. She told him, and Voldemort believed her, I always wondered why didn't he come and made sure himself. I was that important, afrer all, wasn't I?"

"Miss Black, I assume" the old man says, midly surprised "She is, indeed, the most beautiful woman, and brave too."

"Miss Black?" Harry asks "No, Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy."

The old man laughs.

"Narcissa Black, now Narcissa Malfoy. Sister of Bellatrix Lestrange and Andrómeda Tonks. Both Narcissa and Andrómeda have come to see me."

He didn't know. Harry wonders how is it possible that he didn't know. Sirius Black, Regulus Black, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black, Andrómeda Black. It was Narcissa Black, not Narcissa Malfoy, who saved his life.

"She was not a Death Eater, wasn't she?"

"She was not."

Harry laughs humourlesly.

"Griffindor. So brave and so open minded and so good, but so fast to judge. We are all the same."

"That is Griffindor's main flaw, indeed. You would be surprised by how many Slytherin's were on your side all along."

Harry thinks he knows, but he never wanted to see it.

"I was foolish, and righteous, and one track minded. Maybe, the only reason I was good was because people treated me like I were. If I had been in Slytherin, I wouldn't have been able to remain good, with everyone repeating constatly how bad I was. Doesn't it make sense?"

"It does. Hogwart's teachers are wise, and noble, but old grudges die hard, and all Slytherin's have to learn how to live with that."

"He didn't want to" Harry murmurs, as a newly found theory makes it's way to his mind "He didn't want to learn how to live with people acussing him all the time of being something he was not, so he became everything that people wanted him to be. People need someone to hate, that's all."

The old man smiles and nods. He seems satisfied, Harry wonders why.

"We're making a progress, Mr .Potter. How do you feel now? Has something changed?"

"I think it has."

Maybe comming here wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe, he won't need to come again and he will be able to go on with his life.

Maybe he understands, finally.

Maybe he doesn't, yet.


	4. Day Four

_**Authoress Notes:** Well...I think this has finally come to an end. I just needed some clousure, because, though Harry is not my favourite character (I don't even like him, really) I think there was more to him that Rowling dared to imagine, and I just wanted to take that off my chest. Special thank yous to **Inkfire**, because you made me want to finish this story, so, thee it goes, this chapter is for you, I hope it doesn't disapoint!_

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><p><em>He's been in dark places.<em>

_But this darkness...there's no darkness like this one._

_This is the darkest places of all._

"You shouldn't be here"

The small figure in front of him laughs slightly, and the voice of a child rises in the air.

"Why not? I've been here all along."

"You were supposed to be gone."

"Why? Because you think you understood?" The dim light of the room flutters and, for a moment, there's only dark "You always understood, Harry. You didn't need an old crazy man to tell you that"

Harry frowns and shakes his head, taking an involuntary step back.

"I never understood. But I do now. It's all over, disapear and let me live once and for all" he pleads, tired.

"And what will you do if I leave?" the kid laughs, somewhere in the shadows, and Harry shudders "You will wake up every morning, kiss your wife, get dressed, go to work, play with your kids, get back home, go to bed. Again and again, until the day you die. Isn't it great?"

Harry tries to supress the though, but lying to himself is impossible at this point, and he has to admit that just thinking about it makes him want to hang himself.

"You being here means all those therapy sesions didn't work" he says, pretending to ignore the boy's last prediction "It means that when I wake up, I'll still want to kill my wife"

"Therapy didn't work, that's for sure, you seem to understand less now than you did before" there's displeasure in his voice and Harry wonders why "Is not your wife you want to kill. Not...especifically, at least. You just need to start living again, you need something to placate your...need"

"What need?"

"The need for power, of course. The need of a thrill, of a battle, of danger...You used to have it all, Harry Potter, and look where you are now."

Harry shakes his head again and presses a hand to his scar, as the familiar pain begins to take over.

"Didn't you miss it? That feeling that only you're going to get. Only you, because you are Harry Potter and no one else lived what you lived. Why would you settle for the life you have, when we both know that you want so much more?"

"You souldn't be here" Harry repeats, as the boy's words begin to fall to close to home "Leave!" he screams, finally, at the shadows "You are dead! Leave now!"

"I would leave if you let me!" the boy screams back, angered "Don't act like you're disgusted by my presence when is you that refuses to let me go!"

Harry takes a sharp breath, and whatever words he had die in his throat.

_You could forget if you wanted to, Mr . Potter. But you don't._

"I want you to leave. Why? Why can't you live?" he whispers.

"What would you do if I left?" the boy asks, more clamly "You want me here. I am the only one who understands you, always have been. I know what you want, and I will never judge you."

"I want to...I want to..."

_What do you want, Harry Potter? What do you want?_

"I want to reign" Harry admits, finally "I am better than all of them. Stronger, wiser, more skilled. I have done things none of them could even imagine. I fougth more battles that anyone, and I was always victorious. I...I should have died, and I lived. I am the boy who lived."

"You lived, yes. You lived when you should have died. The reason I'm here now, the reason you won't let me leave, it all comes down to that. You should have died, and you lived, and now you're not who you were supposed to be."

Ah, he understands it now.

"Something inside of me is not right, because I'm alive when I should be dead"

"You're understanding again" the boy giggles, pleased.

"No" Harry murmurs, frustrated "No, I'm a good person. I am a good man, I..."

"You're Harry Potter" the boy cuts in "You can be whatever you want to be."

_And that's just how it is._

"You and me, we are one" he boy continues, as he steps out of the shadows and into the small iluminated space "Confronted, we are weak, together, we're invincible."

Harry stares at the boy in front of him, and, for the first time in a long time, the words seem to make sense.

"I have to make them understand" he says "They all judge and fight, they don't understand. But I will make them understand. Everyone can be good, if given the chance. I am a good person, and I shall teach them."

"You belong to a superior race, just like me. They don't understand, they are like lambs, only taught how to follow. But we will rise above them, and change the world."

Harry nods, absentmindedly, and smiles slightly at the boy before him.

"You were right" he admits "I wouldn't know how to live if you left."

_Because he's been throught too much to pretend he's fine._

_He's not fine. He's restless._

_Not anymore._

The kid Tom Riddle smiles, as Harry Potter changes before him.

He wakes up covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

"Harry, Harry, are you okay?" Ginny asks, getting closer and studying his face "You had a nightmare"

Harry doesn't remember his dream fully, but he has a feeling that something has changed. Something big, something important.

"Do you think...that the things that happen in our head are real?"

"The things that happen in our head are only in our head, Harry."

_Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?_

"Someone told me the contrary, long ago" Harry whispers.

Ginny sighs and caresses his forehead lovingly. When her hand passes over his scar, Harry has to supress a cry of pain.

It burns. Again.

"You are a good man, Harry Potter, whatever are the monsters that haunt you, don't forget that"

Harry smiles slightly.

"Yes" he whispers "I am the best of all men"

_People often commit the mistake of underestimating it._

_But the love for power is just as good as any other love._

_Harry Potter has always been a good person, but he sees the world in black and white, and, just like Voldemort, admits no shades of gray._

_And that, makes all the difference._


End file.
